A Guy Walks Into A Bar
by Purpleperson13
Summary: Dumped but the woman I thought I loved and drowning my sorrows, I meet a guy and things... Happen. Naruto POV Sasunaru


**My fist smut fic! Enjoy! **

* * *

Naruto: A Guy Walks Into A Bar

Rejection number 4. Or was it 5? I was starting to loose count of the chicks and the drink by this point.

Fuck Sakura. That bitch.

I'd show her, she wouldn't get the best of me.

All I had to do was get her out if my mind, and my heart, by hooking up with one of the girls at the bar.

Only, I was so far past drunk that they were going out of their way to avoid me. So I sat at the bar, alone save for the bottle of Jack Daniels I was nursing, and the bartender who gave me a sympathetic look every now and again.

We'd had a brief conversation when I came in. He asked why the long face, and I'd answered with the story of my girlfriend of four years cheating with my room mate and best friend, Gaara, who had declared his love for her, and asked me to move out so she could move in.

He had simply passed me a bottle of straight vodka, which I had demolished, before handing me my whiskey.

An undeterminable, to my drunk self, time later, just as I was getting ready to take the drowning of my sorrows onto the streets (specifically the ones with all-night off licenses) my glazed, unfocussed eyes caught movement in the doorway.

I bobbed my heavy head around to the source of said movement, I must have taken longer than I thought, because in the time my confuddled mind had taken to tell my head to move, I was face to chest with a man, leaning over me, ordering himself a scotch on the rocks.

My eyes drifted up, and my breath caught in my throat.

His skin was ice white, not a flaw marred it, his hair was the colour of midnight, his eyes were like burning coals when they found mine and that mouth, with thin but perfect lips, twisted into a lecherous smile. He wore a well-fitted navy dress shirt that dipped with his hips, the top two buttons undone, leaving my mind to wonder what lay under the deep blue material...

Wait, what was I wandering? What was I thinking? I wasn't gay!

That thought was quickly shushed by my growing arousal as my eyes wandered further.

He wore tight black jeans that cupped his crotch enticingly, making my hands want to follow their example.

All hard lined and sharp angles.

I felt my tongue roll out over my bottom lip.

The Adonis positively radiated sex.

He was...

"Gorgeous."

Shit, did I say that out loud?

He sipped his scotch and I downed another shot of whiskey. My inhibitions lowered further. I was going from drunk to absolutely smashed at an alarming rate, but I wasn't pissed enough for the burn of embarrassment at my cheeks to be unnoticeable.

A deep, rumbling chuckle rolled from his chest, and his eye roamed almost appreciatively over my smaller form.

"Could say the the same myself." Despite not being gay, I was seriously getting off on his voice. It was like the rumble went straight to my crotch. I crossed my legs, in what I hoped was a casual way, in attempt to hide the burgeoning bulge in my trousers.

Apparently, I wasn't as smooth as I thought, because his eyes were suddenly glued to my hip, as if he could see through my leg to my hard on. I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

He laughed again.

My cock fluttered in my pants.

I grimaced.

"Do you need help with that?" His voiced had lowered to a growl, his eyes, pupils blown wide with lust, didn't leave the area of my discomfort as he spoke.

"No." My voice was a nervous squeak under such a burning gaze.

"Wrong answer."

And then we were heading towards the door and I didn't even have time to register what was happening until I was in the passenger seat of a sleek, black car, streetlights zipping past in a luminous orange haze.

Wait, hang on, what?

Wasn't I in the bar?

How drunk was I?

I was out of thinking time once again because suddenly the car was jolting to a stop and I was being dragged out of the cold night and into a building.

Everything went black for a second, or was it more?

When I opened my eyes, it was because I had come into brief contact with a very bouncy mattress, before promptly springing straight off of it.

My head was firmly greeted by the floor before I was distracted by a very sexy laugh.

Managing to prop myself up against the wall, I gazed on, glassy eyed, as my kidnapper slowly removed his shirt. My eyes followed every button opened, licking over the freshly exposed areas of pale skin.

He was slim but muscly, with taught abs, gently bulging biceps and strong shoulders.

Omnomnom.

The lean panther man stalked over to my limp form on the floor and sat me back on the bed.

He lowered till he was straddling my hips, and dipped down to give me a chaste kiss.

The whole chaste thing didn't last very long.

In fact, after that one soft kiss, our lips crushed together, mouths moving with a rhythm we had never heard but somehow knew. His warm tongue slicked over my lower lip and I sucked it I to my mouth. The battle for dominance didn't last long, I was so drunk I'd've let anyone do anything to me in that moment.

I was sloppy and uncoordinated, but that didn't seem to deter my new fuck buddy.

The kiss deepened and he was rolling his hips down onto mine and I was groaning throatily, he growled in reply and did it again.

I broke from the kiss to give a breathy gasp.

He began gently mouthing my jaw, working his way down my neck, sucking my collarbone, making me moan like a wanton whore.

Then he was climbing back up, leaving hickeys in his wake. He licked that patch behind my ear and I gasped.

I felt his hot breath again the wet skin when he laughed.

The world went fuzzy again, and this time, when it refocused, it was because there was definitely something being shoved up my ass.

And it wasn't entirely unpleasant.

It hurt a lot, burned, but I kind of almost liked it.

I found it in me to look down and saw the glimmer of amusement in my bed buddy's eye. He could tell I wasn't used to, or completely adverse to, this. And that provoked him to add another finger. And scissor them in my ass.

He kept reaching, moving in further, like he was looking for something, searching until...

Oh.

That was new.

I hadn't realised I'd been moaning until I was out of breath, I shut my mouth, my cheeks flared.

Another chuckle.

He kept going, brushing that space, that little nub of raw nerves, making me groan and yelp and squeal, until, some reason he wasn't anymore.

At some point I had rolled onto my stomach and found the postition to be quite comfy.

In fact, I had started to drift off into a drunken sleep, promptly forgetting what was going on, when he moved and something infinitely bigger was pushing into me.

The only thought in my head was "OW OW OW OW OW OW OW! This hurts! Why is it bigger than before? Where is that nice feeling from a moment ago? What the HELL is up my ass?"

And there was so much of it. Every time I was sure I was full, every time I though it must be over, there was more. Then something brushed my ass, there was a soft grunt somewhere behind me, and I knew it was over.

Or I though it was.

Until he started moving.

At first it was agony, and I was in no fit state not to cry out with it. I felt like whatever-it-was was trying to rip me in half! Little whimpers, manly whimpers I'll have you know, escaped my lips and warm hands found my back, rubbing little circles into the skin.

I had forgotten I wasn't alone.

Ah. So that was it.

Even drunk me was able to figure out what was pushing into me with that much information.

There was breath on my ear, and I looked back into obsidian eyes as pale lips mouthed my ear and whispered softly into my ear about how much better it would be in a moment.

He was right. After a while, the pain had gone from an intense burning to a low flame.

Said flame seemed to loose its intensity with each thrust, morphing into a strange half-pleasure that I was too intoxicated to analyse at that moment, and then he brushed against that thing, like a male g-spot, that rendered me made of jelly.

I whimpered, this time with pleasure, and I could feel that lecherous grin behind me.

Suddenly, his hips here slamming forward, pounding that spot, and I was screaming as he did it again. Again. Again.

"Oh god, don't stop. Please don't stop."

Shit! Bad mouth. Bad, bad, bad.

Or good, good, good.

Because he was groaning in my ear and pounding me harder, and whispering "That's right, moan for me, honey. Just like that," in my ear. And damn it all to hell if that wasn't the sexiest noise ever.

But I was starting to reach my peak, and when I did I couldn't go over.

"Aah... I.. I need to..."

He understood, because now his big, warm hand was wrapping around my throbbing arousal.

It didn't take long. A few pumps and I was cumming on the sheets and screaming to no one in particular.

Then I flopped down on the mattress, hips hoisted in the air like an offering by my partner. I was boneless, dead tired and coming down from the most intense orgasm I'd ever had. And still he was pounding into me.

Well, I was drunk and tired, and I was sure he really didn't need my help for this anyway. He could finish himself off.

Snuggling down as much as I could, I began, for the second time that night, to drop off into the coma-like sleep that only sex and booze could give a man. And I'd had both.

Just as I was on the verge of slumber, a long, low moan sounded behind me and white heat seared my insides, making me jolt. After that there was nothing but a comforting smell, heat on my skin and weight on my back.

I was welcomed by a dreamless sleep.

When I woke up, it wasn't morning.

That was all I knew, because the first thing I found when conscious gripped me was that the afternoon sun was searing my eyeballs and frying my brain from a window across the room.

The second thing I discovered was that I wasn't in my own room, or anywhere near my own room. Because that definitely wasn't a view I'd never seen.

Nup, I didn't know where I was, or when I was.

Oh god, had I been date-raped?

Did date-rapers usually keep their victims? Probably not.

Dumbass.

I blinked, sat up. Ow.

My head hurt.

My eyes hurt.

My hair hurt.

My neck hurt.

Thoughts hurt.

My ass hurt.

Wait, why did my ass hurt? That wasn't usually a hangover symptom.

Yet, every few minutes it twinged like it was afraid of something.

I looked down.

Why was I naked?

I very suddenly needed to barf.

My eyes locked on an open door that led to a toilet and I was up. And then I was down again.

Ouch.

Ok, so when I was too far in the drink to remember my own name I had been raped by some psycho cougar and shot in the ass. Good. Right.

I still needed to puke.

Dragging myself to the bathroom it was.

Twenty minutes later, after a thorough bought of emptying my guts out into the toilet bowl, I fell asleep, naked, with my cheek pressed to the toilet seat.

Next I woke up, my hangover was somehow worse.

It had only been a few hours from the looks of it.

My butt still felt like someone had had a bonfire in it.

Was this how women felt after childbirth? Poor mom.

I tottered to my feet for a look in the mirror over the sink. I wished I hadn't.

My usually golden skin was pale greenish and sallow looking, my hair hung limp and my eyes drooped tiredly, my stomach was covered in crusty white stuff, which I didn't think too deeply into, there were stark purple bruises peppering my neck and shoulders. Hickeys?

My eyes found the bath and I decided to freshen up. The hot water did wonders for the dull ache in my muscles.

When I had dragged myself out of the tub, I had another look. Not much to be done about the bruises, but I looked a lot better.

This time, after drying off and finding my underwear, I managed to limp back to bed. Though who's bed it was I had still to figure out.

There was a note one the nightstand, I hadn't had time to notice it in my mad dash for the bathroom.

" Had fun last night.

Your ass is hurting right? I suggest you don't move, it'll make it worse. (Ugh, now he told me)

Sorry I had to leave, got a call from work, but I'll be back later.

Call for room service (Ah so I was in a hotel!) if you get hungry, my treat. "

Hold up. That was definitely a man's handwriting, and a man's smell on the paper, and a man's underwear in the corner of the room. And he said he had "fun" last night. That meant...

Oh no.

I didn't, did I?

Apparently.

At least now I knew why my ass was hurting.

Sigh.

Well, if anything, I was looking forward to meeting this guy, he had to be hot, even by a drunk man's standard, if I'd just gone with him.

But for now I got as comfy as a man with ass-ache could get, because I wasn't doing anymore walking for a while.

There was a TV in one corner, the remote had been propping my note up, so I switched the set on and watched some crappy soap opera and laughed at the dumb plot line.

Some time later, someone was turning the room's door handle.

In walked Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome, like he owned the place (which, for all I knew, he did) all black hair and pale skin and Armani suits.

My head was flooded with memories of a confident grin, gorgeous muscles sliding on my back, slim lips kissing my neck, sucking bruises into my skin, hot whispers in my hear, hands caressing my chest.

Ooh.

He stalked towards me.

"Hello." I loved his voice.

"Hello. My ass hurts." That rich chuckle.

"I'd imagine." I wanted to hear more.

"So, uh, I don't believe got your name yesterday?"

"Sasuke."

He kneeled down on the bed and kissed me, soft and sweet.

I smiled, so did he.

"I'm Naruto."


End file.
